By twenty, my voice is raw, my lungs hurt, and I’m out of places to look.
Eventually, I walk back inside with my head down, feeling hollow.
Most of the team is still lingering around awkwardly, and no one knows what to do now that the “surprise” has gone so spectacularly wrong. The decorated chair sits in the center of the room, a sad reminder of what was supposed to be a celebration.
What a fucking joke.
“Party's over,” I announce, my voice flat and cold. “Go home.”
No one argues.
Not one person.
Even Erik doesn’t speak.
I walk back out of the room.
I don’t clean up the mess.
I don’t talk to my team.
I don’t say goodbye.
I just walk out with Laura’s broken shoe in my hand, determined to find her.
I’m not losing her.
Not like this.
Chapter 12
My hand clamps over my mouth, holding in the sob clawing its way up my throat as I cower behind the rec building.
“Laura!”
My heart crumbles into a million pieces when I hear him call my name.
“Laura, where are you?”
I crush my eyes shut.
Go back inside. Please, just go back inside and let me leave with whatever dignity I have left.
“I'm sorry.”
A small whimper slips out before I can stop it, and I inch farther behind the rec center, away from the parking lot and Scotty Hendricks.
“Laura?” His voice sounds defeated now, and it's what I want.
It's what I need.
Give up.
Go back inside. Please. Please. Please.
When I'm far enough away, I start running.
I don't think. I just run as far away from this place as possible, only stopping when my lungs are burning and my legs are cramping. My feet are killing me—these stupid Princess Blanca shoes—well, shoe, singular now—were never made for running. The remaining one is giving me a blister the size of Texas.
